My Protective Shadow
by Dr. Kaitie Holmes
Summary: Being a consulting criminal requires some protection. Unfortunately for James Moriarty, no one is meeting his expectations. Until Sebastian Moran shows up and sticks a gun to his head... Mormor. The sequel is now up! (My Stalker.)
1. Failures

Moriarty managed to duck out of the way, just in time to dodge a bullet. A couple more shots rang out, slamming into the wall behind him, before they finally ceased. In silent anger, he stood and straightened his suit, brushing away imaginary dirt. Someone was in trouble.

Stepping out from behind the metal barrels, the consulting criminal found his personal guard panting over a couple of dead people. Moriarty scowled at him, discretely pulling out his phone. "What is your name?" he asked conversationally.

"Nate. Nate McCoy, sir. Sorry it took me so long to get here-"

"Oh, no," he interrupted cheerfully. "That doesn't matter." _For the time being. _"Take me home."

The guard nodded and followed him to the sleek black car outside. Moriarty settled into the back, playing on his phone until they reached their destination.

**Up front. Nate McCoy. Now. -JM**

As he mounted the steps to his headquarters, a guard in a black suit passed him. He heard a muffled shot, and knew the incompetent gunman had been dispatched. He couldn't stand idiots. Heading further into the house, he found Henry Doyle's office. Doyle was in charge of finding him protectors. James entered the room with his hands in his pockets, smiling happily. Doyle grinned back at him. "Evening, Sir. How can I help you?"

Shrugging, Moriarty pretended to think. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe you could find me a personal guard who isn't_ a complete and utter moron?!_"

Doyle flinched back at the sudden, intense rage radiating out from his boss. His heart picked up, repeating _danger danger danger. _If he didn't want to end up at the bottom of the Thames, he had to work fast. "Y-yes, Sir," he promised, blanching. All the blood in his body had drained to his toes, retreating from the look the criminal was giving him. "I'll have you a new guard ASAP-by the end of the week at the latest. I-"

Moriarty cut him off. "I will personally overlook your training programmes."

"T-training programmes?" Dread settled into his stomach at the venomous look directed at him.

"You _do _train people before putting them in charge of _my _life, don't you?"

Desperately trying to save face, Doyle responded, "N-not really, sir. They come with proper training."

"Oh. I see." There was something about the tone of Moriarty's voice that had him praying. There was a big chance he wouldn't get out of the building alive at this point. "Do you run background checks?"

"O-of course!" he replied, a little guiltily. He did...mostly. Unfortunately for him, James Moriarty had an uncanny sense for when people were lying to him.

Nodding, he sauntered up to Doyle's desk, leaning his elbows on the top. "Very good. Now, why don't you pull up a list of candidates on your computer there?" he suggested good-naturedly, nodding at the laptop. With shaking fingers, Doyle did as he asked, trying to avoid those cold eyes.

"Do you have an assistant? Someone who helps you with all this?" Moriarty asked conversationally. Doyle's mistake was nodding. "What is their name?"

"Ethan Calhoun. He's just outside, if you'd rather he-"

"No, no. Just finish up my list."

Doyle knew. As soon as he pressed print, he knew. There was no way he was going to live. So he said a quick prayer to whoever was listening and glanced at the photo of his wife and son.

Moriarty's man entered shortly after he left.

He made it quick.


	2. Trial One

Kicking his legs up on his desk, Moriarty reviewed the list. There were fifteen names. Using his phone, he quickly ran their names and eliminated three of them straightaway. That left twelve.

"Let the games begin," he murmured eagerly, sending a mass message.

**Interested in a job? $1,ooo,ooo for showing up for the interview.**

Details about where to show up were hidden in code underneath. If they were smart, they could decode it and show up. They had to be intelligent-well, intelligent for an ordinary person-to be around him. What if he wanted to have a conversation?

He was actually looking forward to this. Whittling twelve candidates down to the best? The one suited to protect him.

Now he just had to wait for them to arrive. He hated waiting.

* * *

One Week Later

James watched from an upper balcony as the men gathered below. So far, nine had arrived. Letting half an hour more pass, he made his way down to the crowd. They were all eyeing each other suspiciously, if not hostilely. Standing before the front doors, Moriarty clapped his hands together to draw attention to himself.

"Now, I don't usually attend these sort of get-togethers," he announced. "So I'll just get down to it. All of you are going to go through a training programme that will choose the best. And I will only accept the best. So if you don't feel up to it, _get out_." He spoke so intensely that a couple glanced at the doors, but no one actually moved. "Alright. Let's get this show on the road!"

Bounding through them, he made sure they followed him to the back doors and out into a courtyard. Targets were set up along the fence surrounding the clearing. Best to get the simple tests out of the way first. Motioning to his men, Moriarty announced, "This is a test of your shooting. If you're going to work for me, you're going to need to be able to shoot. These are your guns." His men handed out cheap handguns. Only the best would be able to hit the target with them. "This is the first elimination trial. The man ranked last will be sent home. You will get paid though, so don't worry. This is the first phase-_hit_ _the target_."

The men lined up and started shooting. Jim wandered among them, watching carefully. His attention was drawn especially to three younger men. Two blonds and a brunette. The youngest blond, only a few years older than him, was hitting the target straight on each and every time.

He was cute. His hair was long and floppy on the top, hanging over his right eye, close-cropped and darker on the sides. He wore simple black cargo pants and a black jacket, with finger-less black riding gloves. He seemed unaware of Moriarty's presence as he emptied his clip into the wooden board. He turned and caught sight of the shorter, dark-haired man. He nodded his head before pulling out a cigarette and lighting up.

"You smoke?"

His eyebrow rose. "Obviously," he said, exhaling. Thankfully, he made sure to blow to the side, not in Jim's face.

The consulting criminal's mouth twitched in amusement. "What's your name?"

"Lyle Matthews."

That name did ring a bell. There hadn't been a picture of him, but his reputation was amazing. Never failed a job, loyal to his employer, always covered his tracks. So far, he was the highest on the list. Lyle was handed another clip, and Moriarty went to observe the other two. Each missed a couple of shots, but they were far better than the others. Now he just had to decide who to cut.

"Phase two!" he shouted. His men stepped up to the candidates and pulled out blindfolds. James went to Lyle and took the cloth from his man. "So," he asked conversationally as he tied the cloth around Lyle's head, "why do you want this job?"

He took a second to answer. "There are a couple of reasons. The pay, the adventure...But I really just want to have a steady job. Settle down. Y'know?"

Moriarty nodded thoughtfully before turning the other man to face the target. "Alright, everyone! Same thing. Hit the target. Anyone caught cheating will be shot in the foot."

The shooting began again. The three he had his eye on were far better than the others at this. Lyle was still the best, mostly hitting the ring just outside the centre. Proudly he watched, then called for them to stop. He gestured to his men to escort the loser away. He would be paid, knocked out, and dumped somewhere in the city.

"Good job, numbers One through Eight!" Excitedly, he darted around, marking their new number on their hand. Lyle ended up being six, Jim's favourite number. "Now, we're going to inject you with a sedative so we can go to a second location. Please don't struggle."

He left ahead of the pack, wondering about a tear-shaped scar on the back of Lyle's hand.


	3. Trial Two

They moved the operation to another abandoned warehouse outside the city. This one had been converted into a training facility with bedrooms in the basement. The very top served as Moriarty's personal apartment. Each man was dumped on a bed in their room with their bags and left to sleep off the sedative. Jim went upstairs and began planning for the next test.

* * *

When the men woke up, Moriarty's men ushered them onto the main floor. An obstacle course had been constructed, taking up the entire floor. Jim himself ducked through his secret path and climbed onto a platform in the middle. From there, he observed the rest of the room.

All of his candidates were crowded together at one end of the room. Between them and the giant jungle gym was a seemingly bare stretch of ground.

It was booby trapped to the nines. Nothing deadly, but someone could get severely injured if they weren't careful. Moriarty let out a high, long whistle so all the men would look at him. He had to shout to make sure they could hear him since they were so far away.

"Afternoon! For those of you who haven't guessed yet, welcome to the second trial. Your objective is to make your way to this delightful jungle gym, go inside, and take down any enemies you see. Whoever gets to me first gets a pay bonus. The two with the least amount of points go home. The point system is simple. Any mistakes will result in a ten point reduction. Those who make it to me get a hundred points. Each 'bad guy' killed in these plastic tunnels adds twenty points. You may not shoot each other. You have half an hour. Any questions?"

None were asked, so they were all handed expensive paint guns. Moriarty whistled again, and they started forward. Each one of them had an observer on the balcony, so Jim just stood and watched his three favourites. Actually, most of his time he watched Lyle.

Almost immediately someone set off a laser alarm. Another stepped on a pressure plate and got a mild electric shock. Lyle seemed to be able to divine where the danger spots were and avoided them all. James got a little anxious as he approached the trap door, but his long legs carried him right over the top. A man had been shadowing his path and accidentally hit the trigger. The floor opened below and swallowed him up.

From there, Matthews carefully made his way to the plastic maze. There was only one entrance. It was small, and Lyle dove inside just before arrows-tipped with paint balls-were shot from the ceiling.

Inside was bigger, modified so adult men could stand. Stretches of the tunnels were filled with thick smoke or strobe lights or pitch blackness. It was a test of their mental control and reflexes. At random intervals, cardboard bad guys would pop out. Each had a sensor inside so they could track how many were shot.

According to his phone, Lyle Matthews hadn't missed a shot. After a few minutes, another man made it to the tunnels. Jim tracked his progress until something pressed against the back of his head. The barrel of a gun.

"Are you a bad guy or a damsel in distress?"

Grinning, James turned and winked at Lyle. "That's for me to know and for you to find out."

Lyle was still wearing dark sunglasses; he couldn't tell what colour his eyes were. Matthews slung the gun onto his back, the strap crossing his chest. Standing side by side, they watched the madness below. James' phone chimed, letting him know another man had entered the tunnels.

"So, how did you tell where all the traps were?"

Lyle pointed to the trapdoor. It had closed. "If you look closely, there are seams in the boards where things were planted. I have good eyesight, so it wasn't that hard."

"How observant," James complimented. Comfortable silence reigned for a moment. "Do you want to know your score?"

Lyle shrugged and then nodded.

"Six hundred and twenty."

"Out of?"

"Six hundred and twenty." Moriarty couldn't help but grin. This man was completely surpassing any expectations he had had. It seemed rather pointless now to give the others a chance, but he had to make sure the others didn't feel cheated. Pissed-off assassins weren't good for business.

The other two made it up in the allotted time. Two of those left on the floor were paid and sent home.

That left him with six men to go through.


	4. Trial Three

The Next Day

Moriarty flopped onto his couch with a huff. Stupid people, not knowing when to leave things alone. Now he was going to have to take what he wanted. That would take time-time he wanted to spend finding a worthy guard. An idea formed in his mind.

What if he used this as a trial? It would certainly show their commitment and the lengths they were willing to go to for him. Pulling out his phone, he texted his head man.

**Change of plans. Drug them and stick them in a van. **

He let the address and hopped to his feet. He was excited now. This trial would eliminate three of the five men. He was confident that Lyle would be one of the two left. Maybe he would give the other one on his staff. It would be fair, since he'd had his eye on Matthews from the beginning.

Excited, James hopped in the back of his car and played Tetris on his phone until they reached the city. Waiting for the men to wake up, he worked out a battle plan. The target was a shipment of a client's stolen arms. Someone had taken them from said client. Normally he wouldn't care about one shipment, but when he had been _stolen _from...that tended to piss him off. So they'd go in, killing anyone who got in their way, and secure his property.

The van showed up and the drowsy men exited the back. Lyle looked right at him. At least, James thought so. He could never tell with those damn sunglasses on. So he stuck his tongue out at him, pleased when Lyle's mouth twitched in amusement.

After explaining the plan, Moriarty's men supplied the candidates with guns. "And since it is the third trial, the three who reach the target last will be sent home. I'll be watching you all closely. My men will give the signal to start in five minutes."

Wishing them luck, Jim gestured to two of his men. They easily crept into the building and found the crates in the basement. Moriarty settled comfortably onto one and texted his men to begin the game.

It wasn't long before the shots started. Half listening, he put in an earbud and started singing. "_You're the voice, try and understand it. Make it noise and make it clear. Oh-o-o-o, whoa-o-o-o. We're not gonna sit in silence. We're not gonna live with fear..._"

"Fan of eighties power ballads?"

Head snapping up, a grin already on his face, he found Lyle leaning casually against the door frame. "I have an eclectic taste in music," he admitted.

Lyle smiled and sat on a crate next to him. For once, he took off his glasses. Moriarty leaned forward to get a better look. Lyle's eyes were bright green. They were beautiful.

Matthews smiled at him. "You have a nice voice," he complimented. James grinned and thanked him.

"What do you listen to?"

"Metal and rock."

They had a conversation about music for several minutes before the other man walked in. He was the brunette Jim had had his eye on from the beginning. He sent out a text letting his men know that the game was over. The other three would be paid and they would leave. That left these two.

"What is your name?" he asked the new man.

"Micheal Benton."

"Well, Micheal, welcome to Moriarty Enterprises. Rick here will fill you in on your new job." The consulting criminal waited until the men left before turning to Lyle. "Congratulations," he beamed. "You won the game."

Matthews grinned back at him and slid his glasses back into place. "Never doubted otherwise."

James explained Lyle's new job to him, the risks and the benefits. His new guard listened carefully, nodded, and asked questions at the appropriate times. Moriarty liked him immensely. They left together, climbed into a car, and drove to Jim's home in the city.

On the drive there, he received a text from Ethan Calhoun, Doyle's replacement.

**Found something important about Matthews. You'll need to hear it, sir.**

Moriarty sent a quick reply and spent the rest of the ride chatting with his new companion. Whatever Calhoun had to say could wait until Lyle was settled.

When they reached Moriarty's house, he showed Matthews to his new room. It was right next to his, connected by a bathroom.

Dirty thoughts about sharing a shower had played through Jim's mind, but he kept them to himself.

"I have to go talk to someone," he said apologetically after an hour or so. "I will be right back. You can...unpack or explore. Actually, you probably shouldn't explore yet. I'll give you a tour when I get back."

Lyle smiled, and Jim's nervousness disappeared. This was going to work out just fine. He was almost out the door when Mathews asked, "What do I call you?"

"You can call me James or Jim. Whatever works for you."

"I like James."

His heart skipped a beat. No one used his real name. Even if people were on a first-name basis with him, they called him Jim. With a quick wave, James left the room and went down to his office when Calhoun was waiting.

"What did you find?" he asked impatiently as he walked through the door.

"Oh. Um, hi, sir," the man stuttered as he stood. "I'm sorry I didn't find it before-"

"Cut to the chase."

The man nervously wrung his hands together. "I was double-checking the men you brought in, and I unearthed a piece of information that most people haven't heard yet." Ethan noted his boss' expression and hurried on. "Sir, Lyle Matthews was murdered two weeks ago."


	5. The Truth

"What do you mean, murdered?" Moriarty asked suspiciously. He hadn't fully processed the words yet. They just wouldn't click in his head.

"His body was found on the outskirts of Bristol. There was a bounty on his head, and someone caught him. He was shot in the back of the head from a good distance, sir. A sniper shot. And his phone was stolen. The phone you sent the message to."

Moriarty didn't like where this was going. If what he said was true, then 'Lyle' wasn't to be trusted.

"Sir? Should I call the guards?"

"No. No, I'll deal with this." He shook himself back to reality and quit the room.

His new guard was lounging on his new bed when Moriarty opened the door. "So, what should I call you?"

The blond sat up and removed his glasses. "Guess it was only a matter of time. Although, you might want to get a better security team. They're a little slow."

James said nothing, only waited for the man to respond. He sighed. "My name is Moran. Sebastian Moran."

"You killed the real Matthews?"

"Yeah."

"Took his phone?"

Moran nodded sheepishly. "A text came in as I was searching his body. I was retrieving some papers for my client, and I got curious. So I looked at it." He brought a hand up and ran it through his hair. His eyes were adverted as he explained. "I saw the code and couldn't help but decode it. And I figured you wouldn't let me in if I hadn't been invited."

"Why did you come?"

The blond sighed again. "It was a challenge. I like challenges. And I've heard of you, the infamous Jim Moriarty, king of the underworld. You sounded...interesting."

Moriarty's lips twitched up into a smile. His story was believable. And his internal lie detector wasn't going off. For some reason, he already trusted this man. "Can I trust you?"

Sebastian stood up and walked to James. He bent his head down to be at eye level with him. "You can trust me with your life, James. I want to protect you. I'm sorry I lied about my name, but that is all I lied about. You can trust me."

Impulsively, Moriarty leaned forward and kissed Sebastian. It was brief and too chaste for his taste, but as far as first kisses go, it was sweet. Moran seemed shocked, staring off into nothing as James skipped out of the room.

This would work out just fine.


	6. First Date

**AN: I know y'all have been asking for me to update...so voila! I hope you like it. I know this one wasn't big on plot...but I am planning a sequel! Let me know if there's anything you'd be interested in seeing (just FYI, I may not use it). Thank you for reading!**

It had been several weeks since Seb had started working for Moriarty. It had been better than he had expected. Much better. His boss' flirting became a normal (and welcome) occurrence.

"Seb! We're going out!"

Moran promptly stuck his handgun in the small of his back and checked to make sure his knife was strapped to his leg before leaving his room. James was waiting outside, grinning, wearing casual jeans and a T.

"Where to?"

"Just out," Jim smiled, linking his arm in his guard's. Sebastian relaxed, walked his boss downstairs and out the front door. They strolled for several blocks before hailing a cab. Moriarty whispered the destination to the cabbie before they climbed in.

"Where are we heading?" he asked quietly. James winked at him.

"It's a secret."

"Not business?"

"Not business," Jim confirmed.

Sebastian opened his mouth to lecture on the importance of being safe, but his companion interrupted him. "Besides, when I'm with you, I know I'm never alone. I'm protected by even your shadow. So don't worry."

Sebastian was speechless. The sincerity in that confession... He truly held this man's life-and his trust-in his hands. And he was sure as hell going to keep both safe.

Jim pulled out his iPod and offered Seb a bud. They listened to Moriarty's music until the cab pulled up to an abandoned ice rink. "C'mon, Tiger!" he laughed, jumping out of the vehicle. Moran payed the driver and followed his boss into the rink. James was waiting for him just inside, hands behind his back. "Seb, you've got to put these on me, 'kay?" With a grin, he held out a pair of ice skates. Moran guided his boss to a bench and laced them on.

"There," he murmured, patting James' leg. It felt very Cinderella to him-he was even picturing his boss in a crown. He was moving to stand when James said to sit down on the bench. He then pulled another pair from underneath the bench and extended them to Moran.

"Your turn, Seb."

Taking the skates, Sebastian held them gingerly by the laces. "What?"

"Put. Them. On."

"Why?"

"So you can skate with me. I'm not going to skate by myself."

"I don't skate," Moran said flatly. He hated disappointing his boss, but when it came to activities that would humiliate him...

"Please?" James begged, looking up at him hopefully. His big brown eyes melted Sebastian's defenses; he found himself agreeing without telling his mouth to move.

After their boots were laced, they helped each other to the edge of the rink. "I'll hold you up," Jim promised. "And we'll stick to the wall until you get the hang of it. Ready?"

"No," Sebastian grumbled. His partner laughed, and eased him out onto the ice.

The sniper was wobbly at first. Trying to balance on the skates was difficult, even with James and the wall supporting him. After a while, he grabbed onto a pole and turned to Jim. He had removed his glasses long ago so there was nothing between their gazes. "How well can you skate?"

"Eh," Moriarty shrugged. "I'm okay."

"You're better then okay, aren't you?"

James beamed, scrunching his shoulders up, pleased. "Yeah, okay. I am."

"Show me."

Moriarty needed no further encouragement. Turning, he launched himself across the ice at break-neck speed. Moran stared as his boss glided across the ice-then nearly had a heart attack during an unexpected triple axle. Skating back, Jim skid to a stop in front of his guard, throwing up flecks of ice.

"That was...wow," Seb said, blinking. James grinned at him.

They stood like that for a moment. Then they were suddenly only inches apart. Breaths mingling, they stared intently at each other. Then their lips met. Sebastian took over, wrapping a firm arm around the smaller man's waist and holding him tightly. His tongue slipped into James' mouth, exploring eagerly. Jim slid his hands under Seb's shirt, mapping his body. Letting go of the post, Sebastian placed a hand Jim's hip-

And promptly fell down.

James landed on top of him. They stared at each other for several seconds, then burst into laughter. Once they were upright and back on land, James took his hands and kissed him properly.

"When we get home, we're going straight to bed," he informed his protector. Seb cocked a brow and grinned down at him.

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

**AN: I know you guys were expecting sexy fun time there, but I'm a tease. :P There might~ be some in the sequel...we'll just have to see. Keep your eye out for it! Love you all, and thanks for reading! Remember to review! **


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